


Facing The Music

by SpookyBibi



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/pseuds/SpookyBibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Smythe is master of deflection. Today, he will try something new: confronting the reality. Dave might try to hide that something is amiss between them, but enough is enough. Originally written for Smythofsky Week (Theme: Firsts). Mentions of Klaine and Kurtofsky (very briefly).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facing The Music

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me while I listened to As You Turn Away, by Lady Antebellum. I tried to build it around that song, therefore I recommend it as a background while reading this.

“Come on David, just say it already.” Sebastian sighs. This polite, prolonged silence has become unbearable, he has to cut it. For some time now, it’s all their relationship has trickled down to. Silences, and that vacant air in Dave’s eyes. He’s endured it mostly to avoid an unpleasant discussion. David’s the only one he never fights with. It’s… refreshing.

Dave looks up from his nachos, obviously taken aback. “Say what?”

The fork in Sebastian’s hand drops on his plate with a clattering sound. Both squint at the annoying sound. It’s actually funny how synchronized the reaction was, and Sebastian would normally be the one making a snide comment about it. It would, if he wasn’t in a mood entirely incompatible with humor.

“Please, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m not stupid, you know. So, you and him?”

Casual tone, a shrug of the shoulders. Maybe the hint of rage at the beginning might have given him away, but he hopes it went without notice.

He bites his bottom lip, holds his breath. Foolishly, a small, albeit ever-growing, part of him wishes for a denial. Dave’s eyes prove his point: he is a fool. They’re shifty and guilt-ridden, so even if his words contradict Sebastian’s theory, he knows he’s on the right path.

“Look, nothing happened, Bas. I swear.” Dave says. He reaches out around the dishes for Sebastian, who swiftly slides his hands underneath the plastic tablecloth and clasps them together. Hold your shit together Sebastian…

“Yet. Nothing happened yet, David.”

Such a deep silence follows that declaration, bigger than any vocal agreement. He leans forward, stares at his suspicious-looking plate of enchiladas. He doesn’t even like this restaurant but it’s Dave’s favorite, so he always says yes when he suggests they eat there.

 

The position he’s in must speak volumes and the realization makes him sit back straight. He puts on his smile, the patented Smythe smirk. It’s reliable, a tested and true way to get him out of any compromising situation. So far, it looks like Dave’s buying it, his shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly. Not as subtle as it would escape Sebastian’s watch. He chuckles.

“Please, David. Look at the situation here. You, in New York. Me, still stuck at Dalton for another year.” He pauses, swallows, with much more difficulty than he cares for. “You, sharing an apartment with Kurt. Me, again, still stuck here.”

He stops. He has to, otherwise his voice will break.

“Kurt, who dumped Blaine 2 weeks ago.” He finally adds. For a second, he allows his eyes to close, not that it really helps. Back to Dave and his justification, if he has one.

Dave sighs. “It’s like I said. Nothing happened between Kurt and me. He’s my friend, I had to be there for him. Help him through this, nothing more.” He looks earnest and Sebastian almost believes him. He wants to believe him, and he would, if he was the slightest bit naive. But he has let himself be weak this way for too long now, so he steels himself in anticipation.

“You know me Bas. I would never do that to you.” The jock slides to the chair on his left. Sebastian stiffens at the nearness of his boyfriend.

Can I still call him that?

“Doesn’t matter. It won’t be long.” he mutters, looking away. Fuck.

So what if his throat is so fucking tight he can barely speak? It’s not that bad, not that important. It’s only a setting things straight with Dave, casually, you know. It’s…easy. It will be.

“In just those couple of weeks, it’s already started. You didn’t call, you reply to my texts with, like, two words, three at the most. I can take a hint.”

“Bas…”

“It’s fine. You and Kurt, it was always gonna happen, eventually.” Did I sound breezy enough? Yes, probably.

“I… I… Never meant for it to end like that.” Dave fidgets with the corner of the napkin on the table, trying to make eye contact with Sebastian, who doesn’t let him. Funny how the back of the restaurant, with all these tacky, oversized decorations, is fascinating all of a sudden.

Sebastian forces another smile, regardless of how much it makes his eyes sting to do so. Not that he’s crying, no, of course not. Who cries over kitsch décor and Karofsky, really?

“So, this is it then, right?” Impressive. He managed to say that like it was really just a benign statement.

Dave doesn’t respond. They stare deep into each other’s eyes. Even if he won’t acknowledge it, with every fiber of his being, he hopes Dave can’t see the panic spreading inside him. The words still have to be said, until then he’s allowed to imagine a different outcome.

“I guess.”

Imagine no more. A cold wave hits him and his stomach plunges. Out of sheer survival skills nothing shows in his exterior. Except Dave adds something, something that makes him lose a small part of his self-control.

“We can still be friends. I’d like that.”

 

He welcomes the offer with eyes wide with incredulity. “Friends?” Sebastian lets out a laugh. Small, dry, just a little bit broken. “No David, we can’t stay friends.” he says, his tone dripping with bitterness.

“We have nothing in common, remember? All we have, sorry, had, was time to spare and hormones to feed.”

Yeah, that’s the reason. It’s not that I’d prefer never to see you again. It’s not because I can’t be with you unless you belong to me.

“It wasn’t just that, Bas, come on!” Dave protests. Sebastian feels Dave’s hand on his shoulder and frantically pushes his chair away. Such a desperate move. Dumb.

 

“Really? Why you don’t tell me what it was then? Because I’m curious, David. We had our fun, sure. We fucked and it was good, honestly. I mean, we went out but I barely think of us as a couple. Thought, sorry.” he sneers. A fraction of his soul, small but significant, wants to chew his own tongue for saying such lies. The other, much bigger and invading, is fucking glad to have some snap back in him to hold him up.

 

“You know what, never mind. You go get your Fancy, I’ll find myself another boy-toy. It’s quite insignificant, in the end.” 

 

He gets up. Dave’s stare is fixed on him, and fuck is that pity? Internally, he boils but manages to seal it off quickly. He’ll keep it up until the end. With a flash of the hand, he leaves a couple of bills on the corner of the table. Sebastian takes care of the bill, always. At the very least, he’s good for that.

“Dinner’s on me. Goodbye, David.”  
He lingers for a second. Crazily, as if that delay would change anything. Yeah, right. Apparently, being with David brought up a naiveté in him. He doesn’t care for it, not one bit.

He hears the murmur as he turns away. “I cared about you, Bas. I still do.”

All he’s able to offer in lieu of a reply is a last annoyed groan. After that, he’s running for the door and trying to pass it off as storming off. He could hide it better but there’s no time. He has to get out. A part of him, rising from God knows where, was getting the urge to punch David for saying such a thing, after everything else that’s been said. Sure, he might be the biggest asshole around, but he’s never had that rage to hurt someone physically before. It’s scary and leaves a taste of bile in his mouth. Revolting.

Most of all, he can’t go there, can’t finish it with David this way. Because he cares too.

Reaching his car, taking out his keys. That much he can do with the little control he has at the moment. Once behind the wheel, the story’s different. He can’t breathe anymore, his entire face is burning. Fantastic. Now he’s going to cry like a little bitch. Over Dave fucking Karofsky. Over a “relationship” that barely lasted more than a season.

Why did he even let himself get lost in this? A dry sob chokes him, pierces his throat. Falling apart in his car like some emo loser. Like a gullible teen who didn’t know this precise moment was bound to happen.

He did know it was a long time coming, that it was more than a possibility. A certainty. Kurt and Dave had always been on this receding orbit, almost a collision course. Sebastian, he was this stupid satellite trying to prevent the inevitable.

Their “us” was an entity living on borrowed time, now lapsed.

So this is another first he can cross out, several actually. First relationship, first boyfriend, first time being dumped.

First heartbreak.

There’s a reason why he never got involved before. He suspected it, today he knows. He can take all the crap, give it back just as easily, but he’s not built for this kind of pain.

It’s enough. A shuddering breath, a tight grasp of the nose ridge. He allows one last glance in David’s direction.

It’s decided. It was the first time he’d let someone in. It’s also gonna be the last.


End file.
